


Potion

by PrettyArbitrary



Series: Blood Oaths [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mind Control, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 07:38:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8277980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyArbitrary/pseuds/PrettyArbitrary
Summary: Just because they want to kill each other doesn't mean they want each other dead.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kinktober prompt 'Force feeding'
> 
> Sequel to [Forever and a Day](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7998799)
> 
> I can't think of any decent titles for this. F*** it.

There were five hunters. There are four when Gabriel steps out of the nook where one of them had been keeping watch. He glides through the tunnels, his edges blurring into the darkness around him, following his sense of Jack. He’s hurting, Gabriel can tell, and has been for the four days it’s taken Gabriel to makes his way to the city. All the better to draw his vampire master into the trap, presumably. It’d be hard to live down if they left their big bad vampire-slave to sit bored in the corner.

Not that Jack makes a very good slave. Obedience is supposed to be in the job description. Presumably also ‘listening to Gabriel without bitching.’ Gabriel’s still waiting to find out what that’s like.

He scowls to himself as he follows the train tracks through the tunnels. These people are hunters. It’s their job to bait and kill vampires. It’s clear enough to someone who knows what to look for that Jack belongs to a vampire, but do they know which one? If they’ve figured out who Jack and Gabriel are, the two of them could both be in some deep shit for the foreseeable future. 

Down here, he hardly needs his sense of Jack to know what direction to go in. The tunnels of the Underground aren’t complicated, running from one station to the next without much diversion besides the occasional equipment storage area. The hunters will be thinking that this is in their favor, that it’ll let them see him coming.

He explodes into their midst in one of those storage rooms in a roll of smoke and shotgun fire. When his magazine is empty, he drops the gun and leaps at the ones who are still alive enough to scream. He hasn’t eaten anything in days.

When the last body crumples in his grasp, he lets it fall and makes a beeline for Jack. He’s just one more curled up rag-covered lump in a corner, only the smell of his blood and the glint of his silver hair in the gaslights giving him away. He groans when Gabriel crouches to cut the ropes off him, but he hasn’t moved for the entire fight and that’s a bad sign. Jack never lets anyone fight his battles for him if he’s capable of so much as crawling.

When he rolls Jack over—gently, carefully—he lets out an inhuman growl. “I should’ve killed them more slowly.” Jack is soaked in his own blood, streaked and crusted across his gashed skin and the slashed-up tatters that are left of his clothes. They must have been killing him by inches for days.

Gabriel had felt his pain, but how could he have missed this? His face twists in an effort to resist shouting at Jack for hiding it, or not being concerned enough with his own damn life, or whatever the hell he did that kept Gabriel from knowing he was _fucking dying_ before this.

Jack pats vaguely at his leg. “Don’t be. Stupid.”

“Shut up.” He watches blood spill over Jack’s lips with the words. He smells so good. Jack’s blood is sweet and sunny, and carries just the faintest earthy undertone of Gabriel. It makes his cock jump to think of how indelibly he lives in Jack’s veins. “Don’t even think about saying any dumbass thing about dying,” he snaps when Jack tries to draw another breath to speak. “It’s not going to happen.”

Jack’s eyes widen. He shakes his head unevenly. “Gabe. No. Don’t—”

Gabriel pulls Jack up against him, ignoring his attempts to struggle. He’s weak as a kitten and it only makes Gabriel angrier.

“Drink,” he commands, pressing Jack’s face against his throat.

Jack shivers and moans as the command seizes him. He’s going to be pissed as hell when he finally gets hold of himself again. Then again, he’s the asshole who got himself captured and tortured nearly to death without a goddamn by-your-leave, so honestly Gabriel couldn’t care less how outraged he is at Gabriel’s chosen method of saving his ungrateful life.

Jack isn’t a vampire, but Gabriel’s blood in him marks him with traces of the curse. A trained eye can spot the slight overdevelopment and animalistic shape to his canines. And, when it comes down to it, when he gets fired up, Jack shares a touch of the vampire’s infamous bloodlust. Especially when it comes to the blood of his master.

His body is still tense with reluctance when he opens his mouth and sinks his little half-formed fangs into the cords of Gabriel’s throat. But the moment he tastes Gabriel’s blood, he moans and nuzzles in, gnawing till Gabriel can feel the liquid warmth soaking into the cloth of his collar. Gabriel sighs in pain and pleasure and cups the back of his head to hold him in place. “That’s right, querido. I’ve got plenty to spare.” He runs his other hand down Jack’s flank, where his wounds are beginning to knit under the influence of the blood.

The points of Jack’s teeth are endearingly small and sharp in Gabriel’s neck. Gabriel pulls him closer against him with a hand on the small of his back, nuzzles against the side of Jack’s neck and groans. The scent of him is all over them both, the petrichor smell of Gabriel in his blood growing stronger with every swallow. Before he thinks about it, he’s sinking his own teeth into that graceful curve of throat.

Jack moans against Gabriel’s neck and rocks their hips together. “More. Please.”

More. That’s fucking rich. Gabriel pulls out and bites him again on the other side, sharp and pointed, making him cry out. “I’m trying to save your life, not drain you dry.”

“Gabriel. Please!” He’s begging for Gabriel to drink, to set that sweet tug rolling through his veins that makes him go limp and helpless in Gabriel’s arms. A predatory part of Gabriel purrs at the image of Jack begging to made prey, but the point is to heal him. And Gabriel isn't feeling that charitable at the moment anyway.

“Fuck off, Jackie.” He bites again, this time at the yoke of his collarbones at the base of his throat. Jack hisses with pleasure. “I'm not rewarding you for this stunt. Were you trying to fucking die?” He growls at the thought and Jack cries out again as the next bite sinks particularly deep. “Because if you think I will ever let you go, let me correct that assumption for you. If I have to walk into hell and drag you back out kicking and screaming, you will never get away from me. Do you understand?”

He puts another bit of command behind that last, and Jack groans as it hits him. “I understand,” he says breathlessly, like he can't get the words out fast enough. He pulls himself tighter against Gabriel and rocks their groins together again, face pressed into the crook of Gabe's neck, blood smearing across his cheek and hair. “Gabe, I'm not. I swear I wouldn't do that to you. But you would've come storming in here without a second thought and if you think I would've let those assholes take you...” He moans brokenly as Gabriel bites one of his nipples. “Oh _god._ ”

“I am your fucking god and don't you forget it.” He pulls Jack's head back around to press his mouth back to the wound in Gabriel’s neck. “Now take your goddamn medicine, Morrison.”

Jack obeys him this time with a noise in the back of his throat that means he’s protesting mostly for the sake of form. But his tongue laves the spot and then his lips seal over it to suck, and Gabriel rewards his cooperation by reaching between their bodies to undo his fly and take both their cocks in hand. He swears he can feel Jack's whimper in his veins. “You come when I'm satisfied,” he whispers.

It doesn't take a lot of blood to patch Jack up, really, but then Jack can't drink it that fast without making himself sick. He’s just human, after all. Gabriel teases him at every swallow, with slow strokes and rippling squeezes and light, lingering touches to his head and slit. When he runs a hand along Jack's body and feels the skin smooth and intact under the gore, he tightens his grip and begins pumping in earnest. It only takes a few strokes before Jack is coming all over both their stomachs, chest heaving, and a couple more before Gabriel joins him.

Jack slumps bonelessly against him before the aftershocks have even finished with him, so exhausted that Gabriel can hear the irregular rhythm of his heartbeat. Well, he has just spent four days being held captive and tortured. Gabriel smooths a hand down his back, then gets a grip under his thighs and lifts him, letting him stay draped against his chest.

Jack grumbles at being carried like like a child, but his heart isn't in it.

“Come on,” Gabriel tells him, and resigns himself to the fact that the affection in his voice has just undermined all his righteous rage. “We can fight more after you've had some sleep and a bath.”


End file.
